Tainted Snow
by Playgirl Eugene
Summary: REWRITTEN! He was, to me, like the delicate winter. The voice, soft and cold like snow; his eyes resembled December ice. Its frosty glory was a still white; not hushed but deafening. I wondered; will this eternity continued or will its torment swallow me?


**TAINTED SNOW**

_Written by Playgirl Eugene_

**Author's Note :** Hey, guys. This is the promised rewritten version of _Tainted Snow_. There are quite a few changers and I've replaced several modifications of the characters and events, influenced by several kinds of new fics and the original story flow. When I first write this story, I was thinking of making Allen as an extra Noah. But seeing that he is a Noah, or sort-of, as he possesses the memory of the fourteenth, I decided to use just that.

**Standard Disclaimer :** The D'Gray Man and all of the characters, including the original plot and situations, is created and owned by Hoshino Katsura-sensei. I own nothing of it and I do not earn profit of any kind from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This disclaimer stands firm for the whole of the story. Furthermore, if I use any material that needs to be disclaimed, there will be individual credit where due.

**Summary :** He was, to me, like the delicate winter. The voice, soft and cold like snow; his eyes resembled December ice. Its frosty glory was a still white; not hushed but deafening. I pondered; will this eternity continued or will its torment swallow me?

**Rating :** T - PG/15

**Warning(s) :** Slash/yaoi/male x male, descriptive violence, blood, cussing. If any of the aforementioned warnings offends you, I suggest you turn back now. I will not appreciate anyone flaming me just because they didn't read this.

**Setting and Timeline :** Vaguely AU borrowed the original plot with modifications, characters, and faint similarities of their original relationship in the D'Gray Man.

**Character Setting :** Kanda/Allen, Tyki/Lavi

**Chapter Details :** None in particular.

* * *

-- Prologue --

"_Apparently Tyki found himself a new amusement."_

* * *

"_Damn, I guess I owe Komui an apology…"_

_The delicate, pale red petal fell quietly from the mysterious bloom caged inside the hourglass; it was phosphorescent, akin to a glow of dimming flame – a visualization of terrible beauty or a curse of red like blood spilled against snow._

The sound of eerie, silent footsteps echoed ominously in the dark, decadent corridor.

He was thin and slight for his age. There was something deceptively subtle about him, invisible vines of venom whispered delicately around him, like a cocoon of deadly serpents. Refined insanity and shrouded vengeance gleamed like promised sin in his gaze. Not unlike a porcelain doll – he was elusive, delicate, and lifeless.

As if he was not human, perhaps he was not, he threaded down the path of literal destruction as if he was the devil himself; watching with eyes like glass as everything around him crumbled to rubbles at his feet – his eyes saw dreams, as if entranced by grotesque hearts and deceitful minds.

What betrayed him from an Alice doll was the quiet sound of his breathing, the look on his curse scarred visage. Silent trail of frozen tears, that he was not allowed, that he should not have been capable of, emotions he was robbed since so long ago, slowly leaked from his left, human eye. In the stead for the right of his eye was a strange, menacing monocle that swirled frantically as if searching, as if furious.

"_This… is how it's supposed to end, moyashi."_

_The withering, dying petals was like a human's life, frail and flimsy and so precious as they descended to the base of the hourglass, a reminiscence of hell – not a sound, not a single touch of warmth._

His body protested against the strain he placed upon himself as he exercised an impressive display of power beyond the mortal imagination. Only his need for retribution, his Karma, and his broken heart pulled the invisible strings that manipulated the mechanic of his body. He knew when that_ man_ died; something in him would die along – his sanity, his soul, his heart, if he ever had any. He did not care, he could not stop for he would collapse the moment he stopped.

"_I do not care for this world or its pitiful human, Kanda Yuu. There are only you stopping me from destroying it."_

"_You die, Kanda Yuu, and this world will face its consequences."_

So many voices, so many colours of voice, echoed in his mind, only two he recognized. He made connections – to faceless man with red hair, to a man with white hat, to a young girl with accepting smile, but no name came to mind, no memories came to surface. His vision was filled with a curtain of dark hair, a curse mark – not unlike his own – on a gleaming, broad chest, deep and husky voice whispering next to his ear, and warmth that he never knew.

_Only he was so precious, so beloved._

_My beloved._

"_What are you going to do then, moyashi?"_

"_I said I think I love you, idiot."_

Blood slowly dribbled from the corner of his lips – whose fleeting smile had been discarded, grieved for his love, an attractive contrast to his paleness. It was a sign of human, but the colour no longer a natural red and it was cold like ice.

"Skin, if something happens to him…" he whispered to the air with a gentle voice, eerie not unlike a serene chime of the church bells and lulling brook of a quiet, deep river. But it was also ominous, lacking warmth.

Myriad of colours, sounds, faces, and memories flashed as if framed by a monochrome frame. One was almost too clear, yet so far. He couldn't reach it, but he was _so close_…so close…

_Dark hair, dark eyes… warm, large hands, an awkward kindness…_

His heart stabbed by invisible, hot needles, he slid his eyes shut – a semblance of emotions wrench his chest and he curled like an inward bow.

"If something happens to him…"

"_Hey, when this war is over…"_

"If you dare lay your hands on him…"

"_Let's visit my mother's grave."_

Love, hate, everything blurred, anger, anguish, tentative happiness, _he was kind – foul, awkward, simple-minded but kind, so very warm…_

_If you touch him, I'll kill you!_

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

_Eight months ago…_

Ten delicate petals and three had withered to the base of the hourglass, and Kanda Yuu silently damned whoever mistress governing his fate to hell and back.

There were only ten petals. Ten years ago, there had been thirteen. Until last night, there were still eleven. Now, there were only ten. Whether it was enough to survive this war, he wasn't sure. So soon, too fast.

Ten petals and that was his whole existence.

Kanda had always believed himself to be strong, having the perseverance of a bull. If there was something as impressive as his temper, it would be his _strength_, be it mentally or physically. Power was the only thing that mattered, and he had proven that point several times. Those who tried to raise objection to his principles were taught a lesson that left a bitter taste at the back of their mouth, and the rest left him to it.

He was raised to be strong, trained and hardened by battles, yet ironically something so delicate, almost feminine symbolized his whole existence.

Kanda leaned against the wall, sitting cross legged on the cold hard floor with Mugen slipped between his tightly crossed arms. His posture was relaxed, but alert and ramrod straight. His dark gaze was steady, directed at the mystical blossom, a lotus, glowing uncannily – gentle and menacing all at once – floated inside the hourglass he perched on the small table of his room.

It was a small room; empty and depressing and grey and almost too bleak, fitting for someone without any lingering attachment to the room he had used for years ever since he came to the Order. There was one bed, thin and hard, hardly comfortable, and a wooden dresser containing his uniforms and very few personal belongings.

Kanda was his own worst critic and discipliner. His master once taught him that attachment for the worldly possessions weakened a human, desire of the flesh resulted in sins and wrong doings, and only when he managed to cleanse his body and soul of those corrupted thoughts and indulgences would he be able to reach the epitome of strength that he searched. So Kanda denied himself of anything but basic needs of life.

It was ridiculous when he thought about it; the accursed blossom that bound his life to a curse of death that had haunted him for so long was the only thing that brought a glimpse of light and twisted luxury to the stark room of four stone walls.

That was a seal of his fate and of his life; a reminder of what purpose he lived to serve.

_Revenge_ – a popular, old, and suspicious theme.

He hated it.

He had a strong dislike of being controlled, yet he was – by a single flimsy _flower_. Who would've thought that the Black Order's most powerful and feared Exorcist would be reduced to _this_ state?

He snorted inside his head and closed his eyes and unconsciously clenched the hilt of Mugen harder, willing his strained muscles to relax in order to preserve some strength. Kanda had long forgotten how to fall asleep naturally; being forced to be always vigilant even in his sleep.

He had just returned to headquarter from a previous mission in Cairo that had proved to be a rougher trip than expected. Kanda remembered himself being in a testy mood since arriving there. Cairo had been an unpleasant place for him; Kanda didn't really like places that were sultry or damp. Some twisted bastard had accidentally stumbled upon an Innocence and decided to drain the wells in Cairo dry. He was sent to investigate the mysterious disappearance of water, but ended up facing the bastard himself, who turned out to be quite powerful. Kanda managed to defeat him, but not without sustaining some unexpectedly heavy damage.

After the last mission, another petal withered as an exchange of healing his wounds. Kanda never claimed to be the smartest, that was Lavi's department, but even he understood the simple though twisted logic of the damned curse.

For as long as he desired life to take revenge, the curse would cage, haunt, and torment him. It had been ten years since the massacre of the Kanda clan, yet he still couldn't let go. He didn't want to. He felt that if he simply let go, the guilt would haunt him like the curse did and his would lose his mind for real then. After all, the sullen, withdrawn vagabond rounin turned Exorcist who shouldered the hatred of his clan had been his identity for more than a decade.

Time passed silently, slowly – rolling away languidly with the night. Hours had turned into days and days drifted by him sooner, and in no time diverged into the many months of fruitless search. The seasons had come and gone like the wind; the blushing of gentle flowers was replaced by the scorching and playful summer heat, then the golden leaves dancing in the gales, and finally the downy snowflakes that fell gently to earth.

It resembled a broken record, but he had survived well. But then, he wondered, was the curse that pardoned his life from the brink of death for so long? In a way, the cursed lotus was like his insurance policy in his line of work, which wasn't exactly safest thing out there, although, this curse could as well hasten his demise because Kanda had absolutely no control of its parasitic power.

Kanda was not a romantic, he was a realist; but even so, had he believed in things such as Karma and Fate, he knew for sure that they were mocking him.

And to add to his long list of miseries, Lavi had recently found a hidden stash of sugar, or something, somewhere inside the Order and had since then unable to close his mouth. The redhead couldn't stop prattling to save his life from Kanda, or Kanda's life itself for that matter.

Kanda was so deep in thought; he didn't realize that his body did not cope with his mentality's perseverance. His muscles and functional system slowly relaxed against his will and shut down in order to conserve strength. Against the wall in an uncomfortable position, Kanda drifted asleep though not quite as deep as he could've wanted.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Three hours later, he was jolted awake with the searing sound of siren and the crimson glare of the emergency bulbs. The pathetic excuse of a gate keeper was shrieking with a shrill voice, enough to wake even the dead.

"Intruder! It's an intruder! It's an Akuma! It's an ally of Earl!"

Kanda, never once a morning person, had not appreciated it when his sleep was disturbed – especially after returning from a mission.

Cursing with language of wide, colourful range of vocabulary enough to make a hardened sailor blush in his mother tongue, Kanda grasped his katana and sprang to his feet. What was the idiot thinking, breaking into a castle filled with nothing but Exorcists? Well, whoever it was must either be seriously brave, or really stupid.

Standing over the low ledge of window facing his bed, Kanda used the windowsill as stepping leverage before he dived for the ground, landing smoothly on his feet; the snow covered ground was soft and wet under his feet.

Crossing the ground swiftly, Kanda reached the gate in no time at all and leapt, using the stone walls as footing and managed to grab right on the edge of the high post by the entrance gate, startling a Finder on a lookout.

"M-master Kanda!" the nameless Finder squeaked and jumped on his feet, but Kanda ignored him. His dark eyes narrowed, immediately adapting to the darkness for any suspicious character. It was slightly difficult; the moon was shy and the forest surrounding the Order was unfriendly.

But with his unusual reflex in battle, Kanda had, in seconds, adjusted his eyes to the blinding darkness. And just then, the clouds moved away—giving way for the full moon shone brilliantly like the guide of the night it was. And Kanda caught a silhouette of something moving; though it was very fast and very brief, but he was ascertain that it was a human, or at least something that resembled a human.

No normal human could move like that, not even Innocence compatible. It could be a high-level Akuma in human disguise, or the worst thing that could happen to any Order in existence so late at night, a bored and mischievous Noah with nothing better to do.

'_Just what I need; a fucking idiot.'_

With that thought in mind, Kanda made a jump, ignoring the surprised exclamation of the Finder and he barely touched the ground several feet below him before lunging towards the faint moving shadow of the stranger.

The intruder looked up just in time to see Kanda, who had been close enough to slice him into two had he been any normal mortal, and fluidly moved away. That intruder had moved so smoothly, a sure sign of elegant agility, but Kanda wasn't about to give him away so easily and threw the whole his body weight at the shadow.

Kanda manoeuvred the stranger with his attack, rounding and trapping him against the cold, hard wall of the gate. He heard a sound, a breathless sound like amused giggling, and furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment; causing his scowl to look even more prominent. Even in the dark, he knew that the tip of his katana was pressing against the stranger's throat and when the other swallowed, he smelled the scent of blood in the crisp night air and knew that he had bleed from that slight movement. Yet, he did not sense the fear that he had expected.

"… Who are you?" He received no immediate answer to his question, but then again, he was never a good interrogator. "Answer me!"

The intruder didn't answer him and then, there was that sound again – almost like the laughter of a child. Kanda, who was obviously not in a very flowery mood, scowled and pressed against Mugen against the intruder's skin even more – an unspoken threat that he wouldn't hesitate to execute. Kanda narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, but words failed him and died at the back of his throat.

He had finally gotten a good look on the intruder, and suddenly his senses were numbed as if injected with a potent anaesthetic. The so-called intruder couldn't have been older than himself, if not younger by years. He was diminutive and slender, almost feminine and brittle in his appearance, wearing an immaculate dress shirt but somehow managed to make it look indecent; but what caught Kanda's attention was the hair that tumbled down the frail shoulders, curling tentatively against his neck and the soft looking strands were perfectly _white_. White hair, the telling sign of grave, uncompromised sin committed.

His gaze travelled lower, catching sultry eyes – silver, knowing, lethargic, and playful. An exotic, nonetheless profound curse mark adorned the left side of his dreamy, doll-like face, arching delicately from across his left eye.

Full, plump lips curled into a semblance of smile. Long, elegant lashes brushing against his skin as his eyes narrowed slightly. It was mocking, sensual, free-spirited smile. Deceitful – the soft, delicate face of a liar.

Kanda found himself unable register the fact that this seemingly innocent child was supposed to be a potential enemy trespassing on their ground. He heard Komui and some unfamiliar voices in the background, but they sounded so far away. The Japanese man hadn't even realized that his grip on Mugen slacked, even it was just slightly.

There was something awakening inside of him – a mysterious sensation of _hunger_ that he was not familiar with; something he hadn't felt in his years of straining any kinds of worldly need, something akin to that of a gluttonous predator.

Kanda was distracted, leaving himself uncharacteristically open; so much that he hadn't realized that another had stepped out of the shadow and materialized from the thin air behind him. Instinct and reflexes he obtained from years of experience were the things that escaped him out of harm's way as he leapt away in time before something that looked suspiciously like an umbrella – though he was not sure under the lighting – managed to strike him. He landed in a fluid motion on his right knee three feet away, falling immediately into a defensive stance as he felt his senses alighted once more.

He could make out another shadow. This time, an even shorter silhouette with wildly spiked hair stood before him with deceptive casual ease; legs spread, one hand casually placed on the thin hips, and the other hand tapping the weapon – he was quite _sure_ it was an umbrella – against puffed shoulders of a Victorian white eyelet lace shirt.

It was a girl – eccentric and conspicuous as if she just stepped out of Wonderland itself, wearing frilly puffed skirt, tap shoes, stripped stockings, and possessing an elusive, sleepy face that resembled a Cheshire cat.

She was very small, but there was a strange weight of power about her that felt unnatural. She looked down on him with a thin smile, as if she had contemplated his worth and decided that his place was to sprawl by her polished shoes.

The white haired boy had pushed himself of the wall, idly loosening the red ribbon bow of his collar. He titled his head to a side and smiled at the spiky haired girl. He moved like a ghost, quiet and wistful, so much that he could've faded into the white milieu and vanished.

Kanda had mentally bashed himself, damning his lack of self-control. Face scrunched tightly in concentration, his fingers curled like a vice grip around the hilt of Mugen, ready to draw again should any of them made a move. Both appeared to be quite powerful, but he was sure that he could deal with them enough.

Just then, the dark clouds once again gathered into shapeless lumps and shrouded the moon, swallowing everything in the shadow once more. It was only two seconds, but it was enough. The odd looking girl had vanished and Kanda barely caught a glimpse of the curious boy, who had glanced his way with a sideway look before smiling gently – too gently – and playfully pressed his long, elegant forefinger against his lips.

It was a gesture of secret, almost intimate. Kanda found himself staring incredulously at the boy who had then vanished as if he was a part of the night forest itself.

The darkness was silent once more, as if trying to hide the unsuspected creatures lurking there with its false calm, as if nothing had taken place then.

Kanda was not sure when Komui, Reever, and the others finally caught up. They approached him with various degree of worry and immediately assaulted the distracted man with questions about the intruders. Apparently, the gatekeeper had refused to open the gate with 'allies of Earl' lurking around and therefore, trapping them inside. Kanda had not bothered to answer. After all, he himself wasn't so sure about what had just happened.

Lavi and Bookman arrived the last; the former wearing a look of unease as he stared at Kanda, while the ancient looking historian had adopted an unreadable expression. If Kanda had noticed anything off with Lavi that night, he did not show the sign.

-

-

It was a bedroom, nearly decadent.

He lounged, almost sprawled on the dark leather lounge chaise, only wearing a crisp silk white shirt and luxuriant black dress pants, both left unbuttoned.

Tyki Mikk had always been a man of elegance and class and corruption, a visualization of charming good looks and pleasant frivolity, and impiousness. He was a gentleman, with manners like he was born an aristocrat, raised like a royalty of the Arab. The Portuguese spoke and moved with fluid grace, reflecting sophistication and cultured eloquence.

He carefully inspected his reflection in the Victorian full-body mirror standing auspiciously from its place beside the elaborate dresser. Tyki Mikk was also an indulger of flesh and pleasure, spoiling himself without guilt; his private quarter, doused with the drugging and alluringly heavy scent of incense, reflected his debauched profligacy and immorality, true to his Noah.

He was depraved, yet not a devil. He was close, but not quite.

He tipped his head to the back slightly, pressing the glass to his full lips. The wine was old, aromatic, and fine; it suited him.

When the heavy, ornamented door burst open, each wing slapping against the walls with a dull thud, he did not show a sign of surprise as his favourite niece and nephew burst in giggling with mischievous, childlike delight.

"That was _fun__!"_ Rhode Camelot, the First Child of the Ancient Family, exclaimed through her glee as she twirled the pink umbrella with a pumpkin head tip behind her back, jumping on her toe with the grace that rivalled a dancer's. The pumpkin tipped umbrella was crying and squirming as it struggled to escape the girl's grip.

"Lero! It was not fun, Lero! Not funny at all! Leroooo!" Lero sounded distressed as he twisted even more in Rhode's hand. "You two were snooping around the Black Order, Lero! Oh, the Earl is going to be mad! Mad! He's going to punish you!"

Tyki raised an elegant, arched eyebrow at the mention of the Black Order and glanced at the two young Noah, each wearing a look of innocence like a pair of cherubs.

"Oh, were you two up and about for some troubles again earlier on, hmm…?" he asked with a smooth, amused voice; a lazy smile playing on his lips as he gazed them with gleaming eyes.

Allen Walker dreamily giggled again in response, looking almost giddy, and glided towards Tyki, as if his feet didn't touch the ground, and deposited himself on Tyki's lap. Tyki immediately shifted to allow Allen settle comfortably, balancing his wine glass as Allen threw his small arms around the Portuguese.

"Nope! Of course not!" Rhode replied, her voice childlike and colourful, belying her true nature. "Why would you say that?"

"Little liar." Tyki's smile morphed into a seductive one as he patted on Allen's back, allowing the young boy to play with his dark hair as he so often did. "Well, I don't really mind as long as you two didn't do something to anger the Earl."

Allen smiled at him and nodded, leaning his full body weight – which wasn't much – against Tyki's chest and curled like a napping cat.

"But really, Rhode," Tyki said with a playful admonishing tone, waving his forefinger; the gleam in his eyes did not match the made-believe serious expression he wore. "You should've been studying for your examinations instead of kidnapping Earl's possession and causing trouble."

"Th-that's right, Lero! That's right!" Lero agreed eagerly, still trying to wriggle out of Rhode's unrelenting hands. Rhode vindictively tightened her hold and swung him around, causing the umbrella to scream frantically.

The oldest daughter pouted. "Why only me and not Allen?"

"Because Allen finished all his homework on time," Tyki said as he looked down and smiled indulgently at Allen, gently tickling his side and causing the boy to laugh softly.

"Tyki spoils me!"

"Humph!" Rhode puffed her cheeks, "I know that!"

Tyki chuckled pleasantly at the playful banter. Between the Ancient Family, with the exception of Jasdebi, perhaps only Allen and Rhode were that close. After all, they were genuinely close, not because of the mutual goal, cruel nature, and fate that united the rest of them. Then again, Tyki was fond of them – not unlike how his other self, Joyd, was fond of his little band of vagabond friends.

"So," the Noah of Pleasure flicked his tongue against his upper lips and turned to Allen, "How did you find the Black Order, Allen?"

Allen tapped his chin thoughtfully, shifting on Tyki's lap. He had been wearing Tyki's shirt, which was big on him, and the collar had slipped of his left shoulder and exposed white flesh. Tyki pressed a gentle kiss there, lingering but not quite as intimate as lovers. Rhode seemed to be undisturbed, as if the sight was not something unfamiliar.

"Hmm, it was okay… nothing too fantastic." Allen murmured quietly, twisting on the overly long sleeves several inches longer than his own arms. "Oh, but the gatekeeper was very noisy!" he finished with a little pout, causing Tyki to chuckle deeply. Allen had never been one for too much noise, perhaps it was the nature of his Noah.

"But it wasn't so bad, Tyki." Allen said thoughtfully as he tapped on his chin. Recalling the fairly handsome sword wielder with hair and eyes as dark as moonless night and a seemingly perpetual scowl on his face. He had been quite skilled, going as far as cornering him despite the fact that Allen did not put up any struggle for the scent of blood, death, and energy of dark curse about him had attracted the Noah in Allen.

'_That one is pretty interesting. He's not as handsome as Tyki, but then again, no one is. But he's interesting.'_

Tyki noticed the look on his nephew's pale, elegant face. Allen appeared to be a gentle, demure child, curious and delightful. But Tyki knew that Allen was like a puzzle cube with a single unmatched colour; it could never be solved. The more one twist him, the further one would be from solving him. There were times where even their family was wary of the unpredictable, capricious little Allen. The baby was known for his swinging moods after all.

Allen was a walking contradiction – complex and easy, wilful and pliant all at once; a realist who knew and survived the realities of life inside a brothel, and a romanticist ready to die for his elusive love. He was so easy, eager, and yet hard to please. He could've been so content by they bought him rare treats, like the dango he was so fond of. At other times, nothing could appeal him. But Allen would sometimes get this look on his face that suggested that he _wanted_ something. He could be quite vicious when it concerned his indulgences.

"Hmm, something good caught your attention, dear Allen?" Tyki's voice was hypnotizing, sensual, and smooth as he leaned down and nuzzled Allen's neck with the tip of his elegant nose affectionately, causing the younger boy to giggle.

Allen titled his head to the side and smiled softly, almost childlike in its innocence.

"No, not really."

-

-

It had been a peaceful weak after the intruder incident, peaceful in the sense of as peaceful the Black Order could get with Komui's insane robot experiments going on, Kanda's screaming bloody murder at a certain Bookman apprentice, and Lavi's unmanly shriek as he barely dodged Mugen's viciously accurate aim.

Lenalee had been searching for Kanda and Lavi, and was led to the cafeteria by Lavi's screaming. When she entered, she was greeted with the sight of some flustered looking Finders holding back a furious Kanda from castrating or murdering – or _both_ – Lavi, who had sought refuge under a female Finder's robe. The Finder blushed to the tip of her ears as she tried to lower the skirt that Lavi used as shield.

Apparently, Lavi was bored and had decided to amuse himself by poking on Kanda, who was having his lunch. Kanda happened to have a bad day – as always – and decided that he was not in the mood for Lavi's idiocy – again, as always. And they always said that experience made one _wise_, but it just didn't seem to apply to Lavi.

"I'm going to kill you today, you pathetic excuse of a rabbit!"

"Kyaaaah!" Lavi's high-pitched scream sounded disturbingly feminine. Lenalee winced at the high-pitched sound and sighed; sometimes, she wasn't sure if Lavi was simply being thick or suicidal, or just insane. Perhaps all those books finally got to him, or maybe the dust finally clogged his brain. He was looking quite happy and energetic for someone who was about to be killed.

Lenalee sighed again, before she closed the distance between her and the grinning redhead.

"Aww, come on Yuu-chan! Don't be such a prude—Eep!" Lavi squeaked in a decidedly unmanly fashion and crawled away, not unlike a cockroach just before the painful looking seven inches stiletto of Lenalee's Dark Boot made contact with his face and possibly left a permanent air hole there, like it did the now ruined cemented stone flooring.

Almost immediately, all the commotion died down. Even Kanda could only blink.

For someone so delicate looking, Lenalee was anything but, and _she_ was supposed to be one of the few blooming roses in the wasteland otherwise known as Black Order. When she could kick like that, it made little wonder why even Kanda was wary of her. No man alive would want her boots to be anywhere near where the sun didn't shine, procreation on their list-to-do or otherwise.

"Le-Lenalee?" Lavi was seated on the floor, legs spread and both hands pressed against the floor behind his back, looking paler, closer to tears, and more frightened than Kanda had ever seen him on the battlefield – or when Kanda was on his heels. Apparently, Lavi feared Lenalee more than Akuma or Kanda.

Lenalee simply titled her head to the side, smiling sweetly as if she hadn't created a foot wide and deep dent on the paved flooring beneath her.

"Oh, Lavi! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!"

Lavi whimpered even more, muttering something under his breath that had Lenalee tapped her foot on threateningly and Lavi scrambling for protection behind another human shield, the Finder Toma this time.

"Che," Kanda lowered Mugen and sheathed his Innocence against the strap of his waist and crossed his arms. He thought it was stupid; this referring to the sense of normalcy that the supposedly bizarre scene gave. Black Order had a flair for dramatic comedy. No one even looked too interested, seeing that things like this happened on a daily basis on several levels of extremity.

"Anyway, now that's settled," Lenalee said as she clapped her hands and turned to Kanda, "Kanda, you and Lavi are to report to onii-san immediately. We have a new mission," She gave him a reprimanding look when Kanda's frown deepened as he heard the word 'mission' and 'Lavi' in one sentence.

In contrast to Kanda, Lavi literally bounded towards them with a huge grin on his face – the threat posed by Lenalee's boots apparently forgotten.

"Mission?" Lavi's eyes brightened, alight with excitement that Lenalee noticed were there each time he received a mission. Lavi had always been someone curious and energetic; he was never one to sit quietly and would rather be jumping off the cliff rather than being trapped in one place. Much as he loved books, being buried alive by them did not hold much appeal. "What kind of mission?"

Lenalee shook her head, "I'm not sure, but I think it got something to do with the case of disappearing children in Hameln."

Lavi's eyes widened a hairbreadth, his eyebrows shot so high that they disappeared under his headband. "Hameln, huh…?" Lavi murmured thoughtfully.

"Che!" Kanda snapped again, sheeting his Mugen with an annoyed look that seemed like a permanent dent on his face. "Let's just get this over with." He brushed pass Lavi, almost knocking the taller redhead in the process.

Lavi pouted and whined, before he followed Kanda and started to chatter again about one thing and another while Lenalee followed closely behind her two male comrades with an indulgent smile on her face.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

The moment they opened the door of Komui's office though though, Kanda's face immediately darkened and Lavi's jaw fell to the floor. Lenalee looked positively murderous.

That room looked as stuffed and chaotic as usual, with a few of its staff practically swimming in the mountains of papers and books to find a single pen. But that was not what they saw.

Komui Lee, the supposedly genius Head Supervisor of Black Order, was standing on top of Reever's work table wearing a garish looking garment that looked suspiciously like a tasteless piece of kimono to Kanda. He had donned his face in white powder, in an wayward attempt to imitate the oriental courtesans, and holding what seemed to be a thick roll of documents as pseudo microphone, singing – or at least he tried, because Komui was not only retarded and insane but also tone-deaf – what Kanda guessed to be _enka_ with a decidedly horrible falsetto voice.

While the rest of the Science Department looked amused and entertained enough, judging by their cheering and cat-calling, a harassed looking Reever looked as if he was ready to hand in his long overdue resignation letter. Reever pinched the bridge of his own nose, sighing with years' worth of frustration over his superior's antics and Kanda could almost sympathize with the man.

"Gyahahaha!" Lavi was already sprawled on the ground, laughing his bowel out and punching the floor with the side of his right fist, while curling his left arm around his hurting stomach. Tears leaked from the corner of his eye and he choked as he tried to say something that sounded like, "Le-Lenalee, y-your brother is soooooo unreal!"

Lenalee's face flushed red with embarrassment at her brother's ridiculous antics. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she pressed her face against the palm of her hand.

When he heard the name of his beloved sister, the wayward Supervisor came to an abrupt halt and turned to the three Exorcists standing – well, technically Lavi was still on the floor and Lenalee was thinking about joining him for a completely different reason – on the doorway and squealed. Kanda winced at the sound and watched as Komui jumped off the table, bounded, and practically threw himself to Lenalee and rubbed his face to her cheek, whining in a frighteningly high-pitched voice.

"Lenalee-chaaaaaan! I miss you sooooo much!"

"Onii-san, I was here fifteen minutes ago." Lenalee deadpanned with a flat tone and a dry look. How on earth did this organization survived for so long again, she asked herself. "Stop being such a drama queen."

Komui gasped and started to wail theatrically as he grabbed the front of his kimono and clutched. "Oh, my dear little sister! How could you!" the supposedly intelligent, full grown man started to bemoan and lament Lenalee's apparently cold treatment and how it crushed his tender, fragile little heart. Lenalee simply rolled her eyes, all too used to Komui's quirks.

After the first two minutes, Kanda decided it was enough. There was so much idiocy that Kanda could tolerate in a day. Lavi was something, but Komui was definitely a little over the top.

"I knew it! Mingling with these barbarians who corrupted my sweet, innocent angel—Eeeepp!" Komui was effectively silenced mid-rant before he could get into the detailed part of his sister's virtue, which was bound to be ridiculously _long_ and long-winded, with the extremely sharp tip of Mugen not even a hairbreadth away from slicing his Adam's apple.

"You." Kanda hissed ominously with enough venom to kill, "Better make this worth my time or I'll disfigure you so much, even your _dear sister_ won't be able recognize your remains."

_No one_, Lavi thought with a roll of his eyes, _could make it sound so real like Yuu-chan._ Although they knew he wouldn't really do it – hopefully – but they had no doubt he'd try to execute it when his temper reached the roof. Someday that temper of his would land him into trouble, or better yet, actual murder.

Komui gulped and paled, inching away from Mugen as he nervously laughed. The rest of the Science Department already tip-toed away; obviously they wanted to avoid incurring the wrath of the infamously moody samurai. "R-right…" The Chinese man coughed to clear his throat. He turned to address Reever, a look of forced seriousness in his face, "Section Leader, the mission details, if you would."

Reever, glad that someone beside Lenalee could put Komui into his place without the long-winded whining, rummaged through the scattered papers on the floor and the desk – flinging some miscellaneous and sometimes outrageous and absurd items here and there, creating small mountain piles on the back – before finally pulling some crumpled looking papers from somewhere and dusted it off with his hands before handing it over to Komui.

"Well then," Komui coughed again, still feeling traumatized with Kanda's threat, and took the papers from Reever and read it out loud. "Lenalee-chan, Lavi, and you Kanda, you three are to go to Hameln, German to investigate the case of missing children in town."

"So it really is Hameln, huh?" Lavi murmured, a serious expression settling on his face.

"Yes, well since three months ago, forty-six children had been reported missing. The number just keeps going up. There are also several reports of Akuma spotted at the outskirt of the town." Komui elaborated, lowering the papers. "Bookman had gone ahead to investigate it because something unsettled him about the case. But it's been getting out of hand and now it's too difficult for Bookman to handle it alone,"

Lavi casually tossed his arms up and crossed them behind his head, leaning his weight backward on his right leg. "Sheesh, I _knew_ that old Panda's getting way too old for this kind of stuff."

No one commented on Lavi's words.

"Well, there's a possibility of Innocence involved seeing the number of Akumas in that area is increasing, although still manageable. Bookman will brief you further, and you will take over the mission from there on, because he will have to depart for Lebanon in three days."

"When will we leave?"

"First thing tomorrow morning. Make sure to rest up tonight,"

Lenalee nodded as she accepted the form of details Reever handed her, scanning the words when she suddenly felt weight of a human threw itself to her and realized that it was her older brother sobbing and nuzzling against her.

"I really, really, _really_ don't want to send you away, dear little sister! We are really short-handed! So please be safe, please, please, _please!"_ he whined, causing Lenalee to sigh in exasperation again. Lavi simply snickered while Kanda crossed his arms and made a tsk-ing remark.

"Onii-san…" Lenalee started, but Komui already released her and practically marched towards the two male Exorcists standing behind Lenalee.

Lavi made a pathetic eep-ing sound and Kanda's shoulders stiffened as Komui, with his eyes glinting threateningly and his painted face made his insane expression approximately ten times more frightening than usual, loomed over them with a maniacal grin and diabolical laugh.

"If anything happens to my sweet, dear, innocent little Lenalee, I'll personally make sure to remove your icky little privates with the dullest rusty fork that Jerry has."

With that said, after putting some effort to detangle Komui from Lenalee, the three Exorcists left the room to prepare for their mission. Reever stared at their retreating back with a strange expression on their face. When he heard the sound of the door being closed, he turned to his superior.

Komui already turned around, humming something under his breath. "Well now, let's get back to work."

Something was definitely wrong, Reever decided. Komui _never_ voluntarily do any work unless there was something wrong with the man, or Reever pulling his hair out in frustration.

"Supervisor."

Reever started, but Komui either didn't hear him or merely showed signs that he didn't. "Supervisor," Reever tried again with a gruff voice, reaching behind to scratch the back of his head, his cigarette dangling limply from the corner of his lips, "D-do you think it's wise to leave out the remaining bits of the missions?"

When he received no reply from the Chinese man, Reever pressed on with a firmer voice. "No one would know even if you told them that this is supposed to be a general's mission—"

"The order from our superiors includes a demand that the Exorcists we dispatch are not to be made aware about it." Komui replied carelessly, his voice sounding almost too cheerful to be normal, even for someone like Komui.

"But still! What if they get into trouble? What if they run into a Noah?" Reever ran a nervous hand through his hair, restless and anxious. "You _know_ they are not ready to face a Noah! The Earl has been up to something no good too lately! Supervisor, six Exorcists were sent from the East European Nation's branch and they never returned!"

Komui finally turned around to face him. And Reever was taken aback; Komui's face was unusually serious. He was gnawing on his lower lip, and his shoulders were shaking rather violently. Reever noticed that his fists were clenched quietly at his sides, with enough power to leave half-moon impressions or even drew blood. Reever's felt his pain.

"It was a direct order, Reever." Komui's voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed him.

"I know that. Still…" Reever chewed on his bottom lips as he furrowed his eyebrows and stared into the older man's eyes. "I think they have the right to know. They are skilled, but you are putting their lives in danger, Komui!" Reever's voice hinted on frustration and maybe a little bit of desperation. He rarely ever used Komui's first name, but there were occasions that called on it.

"I know! Don't you think I know, Reever!" Komui almost shouted back; his voice shaky, several heart-breaking and torn emotions played on his expressive face. "But there's nothing I can do about it! Nothing is ever fair! Nothing!" he ranted, throwing his hands to the air.

The Chinese man lowered his face; his voice cracking. "I-I can't even interfere. J-just like that time when Lenalee was taken away from me and brought here, I'm powerless to do anything. I can't even protect my own sister,"

Reever felt a pang of pain in his chest, as if someone had pulled on a binder around it, when he saw the helpless tears filling his superior's eyes. He realized that he had gone too far. Komui was the one who was feeling the worst about it. Komui _loved_ Lenalee more than his own life and _he_ was the one who sent his beloved sister and trusted comrades to a mission where they might never returned from.

The man was always so cheerful, so playful, and to see him despondent and vulnerable like that could've crushed anyone. Above anything else, he admired and respected this man, and he had always been weak when it concerned Komui.

Reever twitched when he heard Komui sniffled and choked on a sob, "I-I'm sorry." Komui murmured softly, "I lost control. I sh-shouldn't have—"

"No, it-it's alright. My bad," Reever murmured awkwardly, "I'm sorry I didn't—I wasn't thinking about how you may feel about it. It came out wrong…"

Komui played down his emotion, wiping the tears he didn't want Reever to see with the sleeve of his coat and turned to his subordinate with a sheepish smile. "Some coffee please, Reever? With lotsa, lotsa cream?" Komui gestured with his hand, looking younger than his actual age when he did so. "You know how I like it,"

Reeve's smile was indulgent and helpless. Again, _cream_. Komui only took Blue Mountain with _no_ cream. He could never win against the man. "Of course, Supervisor. Of course."

As Reever turned to get his coffee, Komui glanced down at the document on his table.

'_I guess,'_ Komui thought with a sigh and smiled again despite himself, _'if _that man_ is going to be there, it's going to be okay. I hope.'_

-

-

Cross Marian was always an unpredictable, erratic man. Life to him was but a gamble; a glass of old wine and the company of a beautiful woman were his much appreciated rewards. He always had the most exotic of taste.

The long and slim stem of the glass wine was delicately yet so firmly clasped between long, elegant gloved fingers. His palm curled and cradled the glass basin of red wine. Cross proved how experienced he was in indulging beauty just from the delicate way he twirled and savoured his wine. After all, fine wine was but elegance incarnate. It was sweet and sultry, inducing addiction like narcotics would.

Cross was a man believed to serve God by the crest he bore and the duty he shouldered, yet at the same time he was a man of not belief but of flesh and pleasure, and he was not ashamed to admit it. God bestowed beauty upon them, and he'd be damned if he didn't indulge in the only good thing existed in this misguided world.

He'd never betray his only known love – beauty that is, even if that twisted love itself betrayed him. After all, like its fickle nature; that one love he knew was never loyal and it wavered, random and ever changing in its charming, unreliable captivation.

From his peripheral view, he caught the snow quietly descending to earth outside the window – gentle, quiet. He chuckled in mirthless humour and raised his glass, in the remembrance of one beauty that had been wronged, the first and last he had betrayed.

_White hair, beautiful eyes._

He was but a cursed child. But there was something about that child, Allen Walker, was so exotic, so alluring, so quiet – too quiet. So soft like a baby chick. He remembered the look into those huge, glassy eyes. It was so wrong on a face like porcelain doll; it was too expressive, so suggestive, but so cold.

That boy, so young yet he seduced like a jaded whore. His skin was so pale, he looked like he would bleed upon touch, like he would shatter, like he would break. There was something subtle and alluring about that.

Allen Walker had been the lowest of slaves and beggars there, treated worst than the lowest of whores. He was spent, used, hated, and abused. They were repulsed by the scarred curse of his hair, face, and arm. Yet they were curious and they desired him, wanting so much to touch, to taste that skin, that sin.

The wretched boy had come to accept that fate and had been so pliant, so ready for another irrational strike and whims by his patrons. Yet Cross had touched him like he was a piece of delicate, precious art. He had looked at Cross with curious, sultry eyes, holding his gaze with strange straightforwardness. He had been taken aback by that unexpected, merciful gentleness. Cross had wondered what made him gave that fleeting gentleness.

Those eyes were licentious, ill-fated, Cross thought. It made him even more beautiful. That exotic, grieving beauty he had had surprised Cross. Cross wanted to touch, knowing he shouldn't.

A cursed hand had been reached out; a silent plea for help. That boy was silently crying on the inside, he was experiencing pain and torment that he wanted to escape. Cross had decided to ignore it and left. He did not look back when he did.

God loved the good, crushed the evil, but always near of neglecting the beautiful. But then, didn't God give him a chance of saving that beauty?

Cross Marian, a romantic but complicated man, decided to abandon that beauty. He believed that the boy was meant for something much more, and he would only deter that by shielding him.

It was not the time yet. The boy wasn't strong enough, he needed to suffer more, and Cross wasn't about to interfere.

An innocence tampered was always the best, and he was not about to let add sugar, spice, and everything nice and shielded the boy from gruesome realities. The boy needed to grow, so be it if he had to experience pain. He was a living taboo, an Innocence compatible Noah. He could not be weak.

Life was always about trial and error. He had survived this world of irrationality with that idealism.

Perhaps though, he might have overdone it just a little bit this time.

Cross Marian was, like they believed, a blunt and heartless man. But even so, he had his reasons. That boy was not to be an exception, he was simply an unexpected circumstances. But perhaps that boy had made him a little soft.

He quietly placed the glass of wine on the bedside table, feeling the woman sleeping behind him stirred quietly.

He had not learned her name, and she had called another man's name in the height of her desire; she was a beautiful woman – Italian blooded, with skin like silk and the colour of fine mocha, black hair, and mischievous, exotic brown eyes. Alas, she was just another woman. They were attracted to each other physically, and then they would embrace one another, pretending to be lovers for the matter of hours. There was no lost love between them, there was heat but no warmth, there was passion but no longing.

But Cross never really did miss a chance of appreciating beauty, no matter how momentary and false it was. He was no saint and had participated in such games of coy seduction, pretentious love, and fulfilling the desire of flesh.

The far away sound of bell alerted him that it was midnight. It was time, he thought as he made a move to stand, quietly so that he did not alert the sleeping woman.

Earlier, Cross had received word from the higher officials. Cross had never once liked those hoity-toity, sanctimonious, manipulative old bastards but urgency of their message had caught his attention. Apparently, situation had occurred – a dire, urgent situation that called for a drastic measurement; and when one thought about _drastic measurement_, they would naturally think of an equally drastic man such as Cross Marian himself.

While he was a self-centred, apathetic man, he was not ignorant. Cross was a man of war himself, he knew how the proportion of give and take. He knew better to take it when his instinct told him to take it; that very same instinct that saved him more times and over than his Innocence ever did.

So shrugging into his clothes, Cross slipped the cigarette between his full lips and walked out of the room, never once looking back to the woman who offered accompaniment and warmth in the cold, lonely night of Rome.

He was already late as it is; the ship to German was to leave in thirty minutes.

-

-

Rhode stirred from her nap, curled like a kitten on the bed of silk and Egyptian cotton fitting for a king. She sleepily rubbed her eye with the back of her left fist and yawned. Her one piece pyjama, one of white Chinese silk and lace, slipped of her shoulder.

"You're awake, Rhode."

Rhode nodded, knowing whose whispery, breathless voice it was without even looking. She shook her head and looked around, noticing that Allen was sitting by the white grand piano but not playing. He was only wearing Tyki's oversized shirt that he seemed to be so fond of. The Portuguese man always let him wear and spoil his spendy shirts, for reasons obvious to them because Allen was indeed the youngest and most beloved of their siblings. Speaking of the devilish man, Rhode looked around the room and noticed that Tyki was not there, which was strange because Tyki was usually around Allen whenever they came to the mansion.

"Where is Tyki, Allen?"

"Hmm?" Allen replied absently, caressing the ivory and black keys with his long, slender fingers, "He asked me to open the portal to Hameln earlier."

Rhode raised an eyebrow at that. "Hameln?"

"Apparently Tyki found himself a new amusement." Allen slid his eyes shut, "He found a new toy, he said."

The first child of Noah immediately perked up at the mention of toy. She was but a child. "Oh, what kind of toy?"

"Tyki did not share. He seemed possessive,"

Rhode noticed that Allen looked almost jealous. Amongst all of them siblings, Allen adored Tyki the most, and that feeling was reciprocated. Allen wanted, needed Tyki's approval and praise above all else. Tyki willingly spoiled and pampered Allen's insecurities. Allen was always all over him like a cuddly kitten.

Each time the Noah of Pleasure found a new hobby, Allen was always left apprehensive and vulnerable, worried that he would be left behind alone like before, worried that Tyki would love something or someone more than him. Tyki was the one who found Allen and saved him from that dreadful brothel and killed the one man who had tormented Allen for so long. The Portuguese man pulled him out of that hell hole and healed him, loved him, and adored him.

He gave him a family. Allen might love Rhode as much as a brother could a sister, but Tyki meant the world to him.

"Allen, you know that Tyki would never replace you or leaves you. He loves you,"

"I know." Allen said, calm and steady, as he turned his eyes to Rhode. "But this time, he might. Not leave, but I know Tyki when he has that look in his eyes."

Rhode pursed her lips. What could make Tyki so obsessed? Tyki had always been a subtly willful man. When he wanted something, be it a human or trinket, he would never stop until he had and broke them when the interest finally waned. His obsession could be so unhealthy, troublesome, and dangerous.

"I've seen a glimpse of him through one of my portals. He's quite beautiful for a human." Allen continued, looking a little worried. "He's a Bookman though. The Earl will not be happy if he finds out… Tyki's leisure pursuit can be so dangerous."

Rhode's eyes widened slightly, amusement gleaming in her playful eyes. She leaned forward, curiously fascinated with the revelation. "You mean, that Bookman apprentice with wild hair like blood and a single eye we've seen before in Romanian with that vampire Exorcist?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"This is interesting." Rhode appeared contemplative for a moment before she jumped off the bed and glided across the room perkily, "Allen, get changed."

Allen blinked at the sudden order. He looked at his sister with a perplexed face and titled his head to one side, "Whatever for?"

"Silly! I'm not going to let Tyki have all the fun alone!" Rhode giggled, mischief dancing across her fine features. "We're going to Hameln!"

* * *

**End's Note :** So, err… whaddya think? I like this one so much better, personally speaking. It felt right this way. Please, feel free to review and give your comments.


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